Date: Sun, 3 Oct 99 05:14:25 -0400
From: Phil Savage
Subject: Out in the Woods
OUT IN THE WOODS
by Phil Savage
As a kid I used to spend summers at a sleepaway camp in New Hampshire. To
me it was one of the most beautiful places on earth - silvery lake, the
aroma of pines with centuries of coppery duff beneath. I liked the kids,
the swimming and canoeing, the nakedness when we changed or, soap in hand,
went skinnydipping for Sunday Scrub.
But I also liked being on my own. So often during free time I'd go out in
the woods on my own to explore and revel in the natural beauty. Forests
are sensual, at least they are for me. Often as not I would strip off
clothes, bathe myself in air, and jack my cock until my flying sperm joined
the rest of nature's fertility.
One warm, sunny afternoon when I was 12, in my last year as an upper
middler and stirred by puberty, I went off into the woods and found myself
in a clearing with a huge tree at the edge. I decided to climb to the top
and see what I could see. The view was all I could ask for - blue lake
with sailboats, puffy clouds overhead, green and then gray mountains
beyond, all in the languid grasshopper stillness of high summer.
Gradually I became aware of two voices and an occasional stick cracking
underfoot. Then two older boys came into the clearing a little way off
from my tree. I recognized them as a couple of seniors, about 15 or16.
They were arguing about something and I could make out their voices but not
what they said, until they were almost beneath me.
"C'mon. you know you love it."
"I don't wanna."
"You did last time."
"I just don't feel like it."
"Here. Feel."
He took the boy's hand and place hardness filled his hand and generous
softness had filled his fingertips, desire had captured him.
He placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Take it out. See what
I've got for you."
The boy slid to his knees. I couldn't see very well because his partner
was standing with his back to me. But there was fumbling and pushing, and
pretty soon his camp shorts and then his underpants were around his ankles.
Kids know a lot about sex today. But in those high and far off times, we
didn't know much, or at least I didn't. I knew about hard-ons and jerking
off and that men and women fucked. There was some `fooling around' in
the tents, and a couple of my friends and I sometimes `wrestled,' an
excuse for rubbing against each other. But basically there was nothing
much beyond recognizing that a penis could give pleasure and checking out
one another's plumbing. The notion of two men doing anything like what I
thought they were about to do would have been absurd.
All the same, I knew what was about to happen. The kneeling boy cupped his
friend's butt cheeks, and the friend held his head. Elbows moved in
rhythm, then bodies, and soon there were ecstatic grunts and moans and then
sighs and slurpings.
I was enthralled. In my wildest imaginings I had never been so turned on.
My cock was so hard it was painful. And to make things worse, I had to pee
badly and one of my feet was falling asleep. I tried to shift my weight,
but it shook the tree and I was afraid they would look up and find me.
I had seen these two guys around, and there was a sort air about them. You
wouldn't be surprised if they ground their heel on a wounded bird or held a
lighter under a turtle. I knew if they caught me, anything might happen.
And I was just beginning to suspect that `anything' might include
appalling things I had never dreamed of, at least not until now. So as my
hardness and my need to pee became unbearable, so did my fear of being
discovered.
The groans grew more ecstatic. The standing boy began thrusting. "Take
it! Take it, cocksucker!"
His partner clawed at those buttcheecks, whimpering hungrily and then
choking and snorting as he impaled himself and received his reward. And
then there were deep sighs of release and pleasure.
The kneeling boy rose, pushed his shorts down, and with efficient strokes
brought himself quickly to climax, spewing his seed while his partner
watched. And shortly afterwards, they zipped up and went on their way
laughing as if nothing had happened.
Slowly, painfully, I climbed down the tree and whizzed in blessed relief.
I went over and searched where they had stood, but their semen had either
dried or melted away. Then I returned the long way round, my brain
whirling with what I had witnessed - intimidation, willing acquiescence,
greedy gorging ecstasy. And about myself I learned that the aftertaste of
fear was craving.
That was the end - except it wasn't really.
Although different age groups lived in different camp units, we all ate in
a common dining hall. And so I saw them every day, often three times - not
simply as other boys but as growing men, sexual, with real shoulders, arms
and asses, and the secret bulgings in the legs of their uniform shorts.
And all the while in my mind's eye I saw taut bodies, straining erections,
cum spilling.
In the tent in the dark night long after taps, surrounded by the steady
breathing of other campers, I would play back the memory as noiselessly I
stroked and spewed my ecstasy into the sock I kept by my bedside. And to
this day I can conjure up the image of those two, their desire, and the
hunger that has driven me ever since.
I suppose etched in every man's memory is the experience that first lifted
the curtain on the world of sex. But looking back, I can see that it was a
also defining moment in my destiny.
In September when I returned home, Roger up the street, a year or so older
than I, somehow surmised what I wanted and gave it to me. And when I
returned to camp as a senior the following year, there was Nick, whose
guarded glances at my crotch betrayed him, and whom I taught the pleasures
of being out in the woods.
So, what about your 'defining moment'?
Phil psavage@voicenet.com